


Candy Man Can-Do

by Inkribbon796



Series: Masks and Maladies [33]
Category: Markiplier fandom - Fandom, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Birthday Post, Chaos Magic, M/M, Someone gets shot but doesn’t die, accidental mind control, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkribbon796/pseuds/Inkribbon796
Summary: It’s November 9, and the city gets a colorful reminder of how powerful Warfstache is.
Relationships: darkstache
Series: Masks and Maladies [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538131
Comments: 4
Kudos: 102





	1. A Rose-Colored Trap

It was the first official year the Sides had lived in Egoton when the month of November rolled around. They’d been coming and going from Egoton according to where the Dark Sides were, and now that Deceit and Dark has formed a truce, the Sides were practically here to stay.

This meant getting used to cold spells that were twenty degrees colder than they were used to. The fact that Deceit and Anxiety tended not to do much, leaving the Duke to run amok. And the fact that Warfstache’s birthday was right at the start of the month.

The first sign that there was something wrong was when Logan woke up. He hit his alarm at seven am and got out of bed, reaching for his glasses and heading to the shower. His glasses seemed like they had an odd film over them and Logan struggled to get it off, his shower being delayed by a whole ten minutes as he fought to fix his glasses and finally gave up in frustration, taking his shower and then storming out. Logan kept close enough to the wall, so that his poor eyesight wouldn’t strain too much trying while trying to step around stuff.

Walking down into the apartment’s kitchen, Logan fished out a second pair of glasses only to find the same blurry film on them as well.

“Patt,” Logan called back up into the apartment where Patton and Roman’s rooms were. “Did you and Roman do something with my glasses?”

There was nothing. Frowning, Logan slowly made his way to the stairs, putting his glasses on and just dealing with the glossy, almost pink film over his glasses. Placing a hand on the railing, Logan realized there was something wrong immediately when his hand hit cotton candy. Recoiling his hand away, Logan looked to see his entire banister was made of cotton candy, but pulling his glasses off made it turn back to normal.

“That is not good,” Logan looked at the film over it, peering as close as possible to the glasses as he could. Whatever was wrong with his glasses it wasn’t something on top of the lens. It was in the lens.

“Roman!” Logan called out. “What did you do to my glasses?”

An insistent pounding came at the front door, and after hesitating, Logan fumbled his way to the door and prayed it wasn’t Remus when he opened it blindly.

“Logan,” Dr. Iplier’s voice came at him through the brighter outside light. “Please tell me you’re still you.”

“Doctor?” Logan asked. “My glasses aren’t working.”

“Yeah, that’s probably how it got Patton,” Dr. Iplier pushed him back into the apartment. “The Host told me to give you these. Don’t ask how he knows your prescription, it’s not the oddest thing he’s done.”

Logan took the glasses he was passed, a perfect match for his actual glasses, and it didn’t have the film. “What happened, if you’ve already seen Patton I trust that he and Roman are not doing well.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know how it started because Anxiety pulled me out. He took some convincing to set Roman free put he pulled him and Patton out. Whatever happened between you all, I think you need to call a therapist.”

“ _ Anxiety _ pulled you out of what?” Logan asked.

Iplier frowned and marched over to the window to pull up the binds to reveal what was, to Logan, a nauseating amount of pastels and the entire city seemed to be made out of candy or some other kind of sweet. “It’s discount Candy Land! I completely forgot you guys haven’t been in town on November 9.  _ This _ happens every year. Sometimes it’s just A Street and Jay Burne, sometimes it’s the area over Dark’s warehouse. Once he targeted it over the base and nowhere else because he had a problem with  _ me _ . Wilford kinda goes crazy on this day, and I didn’t even realize that you three weren’t in the base until I saw Patton.”

“What happened?” Logan asked.

“Oh, I took pictures, Wilford’s magic completely took them over, but I’ve got the Host and Anxiety waiting, and I’m pretty sure if I leave the two of them alone together the Host will start bleeding, and then Anxiety will probably run off.”

“Right, let me get my costume,” Logan offered.

“Don’t put the visor on, if Wilford was able to hook his magic onto your glasses, then I guarantee you, it got onto your visor. Bring your costume, and hopefully the Host and Anxiety can do something with it.”

“Right, of course,” Logan answered and raced into his room to grab his duffle bag he kept all his gear in, and quickly raced out with Iplier. The entire city looked like it had been dipped in a late-60’s tinged candy nightmare. Almost everyone walking on the streets looked more like cartoon caricatures of themselves than actual people. Logan recognized some of his own neighbors, and didn’t like it. The walk was unnervingly slow. 

“Why does Warfstache do this, if he has the power to take over the whole city, then why isn’t this the status quo every day?” Logan demanded as Iplier calmly led him into a side alley, where everything seemed a bit more normal.

“Honestly, I think he forgets he can do this,” Iplier answered. “It’s been almost fifteen years since he’s taken the entire city. Wilford’s a force of nature, it’s why Dark works with him. They don’t work  _ for _ each other, they work  _ with _ each other. That’s the scary part about Wilford, he survives daily encounters with Dark and neither of them have killed each other yet.”

“The Reporter and the Entity are incapable of killing each other,” Host announced his presence and Logan jumped in surprise.

“Is Anxiety still here?” Dr. Iplier asked.

“I’m shocked you think so poorly of me, Doc Obvious,” Anxiety called out from the first level of the fire escape.

“Didn’t want to push my luck,” Iplier reminded. “Just cause you freed me, doesn’t mean you’ll help me take Wilford on.”

“Dark’s already kicked us out,” Anxiety shrugged. “What’s one more thing on the list?”

“I appreciate it,” Iplier told him.

“Logic,” Host held out a coffee cup, looking his way. “This is for the hour.”

“Oh, thank you,” Logan took the cup and after a sip found it was incredibly similar to how he usually took his coffee. “This will suffice until I can get real sustenance.”

“Wow, you just took some random cup someone gave you,” Anxiety rolled his eyes, the action barely visible under his hood. “Real smart.”

“The Host would never poison someone,” Host defended firmly, any hint of humor gone from his voice. “There are easier ways to inflict harm and the Host has no need to harm Logic nor any of his allies.”

“I take it you were offered a coffee as well,” Logic took another sip, the caffeine greatly improving his mood. “Host is right, he would not poison anyone.”

“If you can’t trust them, at least take my word for it,” Dr. Iplier took a step forward. “You don’t have to take the coffee, just trust we aren’t going to sell you out.”

Anxiety was quiet for a little bit. “Don’t know if you haven’t noticed, Doc, trust isn’t usually something I’m given, and I certainly don’t give it out.”

A thud shook all of them from the conversation, both Logan and Anxiety jumping and looked up to see King of the Squirrels on top of the fire escape, about five squirrels hanging off of him, scurrying around him and the fire escape.

“Coast is clear, most of the villains are waiting the storm out,” King climbed down the outside of the fire escape, Anxiety pulled his hood farther down to hide his face and backing away from him.

“How fortunate,” Host gasped as his narrations let him speak again. “I take it Dark’s enforcers are not roaming the streets.”

“Well one of his Lieutenants was roaming around my park, so I had to hide over here,” King responded. “He’s got some new ones, or at least one new one. But if he got rid of Bargs, you can bet he got rid of Sierra too.”

“That only means Darkiplier is moving through the timeline faster than the Host predicted,” Host responded in concern, confusing Logan because it was abundantly clear that King and the Host were speaking in some form of code he hadn’t known they shared.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Anxiety said, keeping his hood drawn low, especially when King looked his way. Which intrigued Logan.

“The Host advises the Sides and Egos stand back,” Host motioned and King jumped off the fire escape to give Host some more room.

Iplier motioned for Anxiety to come down, and he did slowly, almost falling down to keep his hood covering his face. The Host held his hands up, as if he was shuffling through papers, and blood started leaking through the bandages. Anxiety looked like a cat about to bolt back into the candy cane lined streets behind them. Logic admittedly felt a little unnerved as well at the Host’s gift. His future sight tended to still get a rise out of him.

“Hey, Doc, is that normal?” Anxiety whispered to Iplier, his unease loosening his grip on his hood, and King studied his face. Logan could see recognition in his eyes for a moment or two.

“Unfortunately yes,” Dr. Iplier frowned, “I’ll have to take him back to the base after this.”

“I can take him,” King offered, keeping his voice low as Host continued to look into the future. “I can grab any of the other heroes we need when I bring him back.”

“As much as I’d like to, I need to change his bandages and he might need a saline IV,” Iplier reported. “King, you can take Logic and Anxiety to wherever the Host needs all of you.”

Iplier slowly moved towards the Host as his hands stilled and his head tracked down something. “Doctor,” the Host warned and Iplier was quick to move it to support the seer and keep him upright.

“Right, I’ll take you back to the base,” the doctor told him.

“The good doctor should listen and listen well,” the Host warned,. “Let the King of the Squirrels take the Host back to the base.”

“I’m not going to let you bleed out,” Dr. Iplier spat at him, “I’m your doctor.”

“King cannot be present when Wilford is confronted,” the Host struggled to stand on his own, but Iplier just helped lower him to the floor. “The Red Prince is located on 8th Street. Let Wilford interview him, and he will survive. Anyone else will not survive being shot. Let Henrik treat the Host until the good doctor returns, he will survive.”

“You better not be pulling another—” Dr. Iplier spat.

“The Host is not,” Host spat back, blood dripping from his thoroughly soaked bandages, it was getting so bad that it starting to slip down his face. “King.”

“Right,” King moved in, trying to get Iplier to give him the Host. “Come on, Ed, I got him.

“You better,” Dr. Iplier warned.

“I’ll take the quick route,” King smiled. “Don’t want to wind up on your bad list.”

King quickly left with the Host, the two of them retreating into the streets to head towards the base.

“I hate it when they do that,” Iplier glared after them. “Let’s go.”

“Right, don’t have to tell me twice,” Anxiety commented.


	2. Live on Warfstache Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to the actual Warfstache.

“Wil,” Damien sighed.

“Yes, my dear?” Wilford smiled, the two of them sitting in what appeared to be an old fashioned diner. People were in the diner talking and dancing next to a jukebox. All of them completely taken over by Wilford’s magic. The waiting staff were all Wilford’s little  _ “assistants” _ little more than living marionettes with paper masks of his face on them. “Don’t you like your milkshake, chocolate is your favorite.”

“Will, I have lots of work to do,” Damien sighed. “Both as mayor and with my actual job, which you are interrupting.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bim leaned over from the neighboring booth, sitting alone and holding up a smoothie that looked more like a rainbow sherbert concoction than juice. “Nice to have a break every once in a while. Plus you’re always working.”

“Someone has to!” Damien spat, his phone ringing. He didn’t even check who it was, all he made sure was that it was his person phone and not the Mayor’s. “What?” Dark hissed out.

_ _ _ “Update,” _ Google warned.  _ “Four heroes have entered the premises, they are obviously arriving to stop Wilford.” _

Dark turned back into his more publically known self, groaning, “Thank you Google, it’s nice to know  _ someone _ can still do their job.”

_ _ _ “Affirmative,” _ Google responded and then hung up.

“Bim, mask up or leave,” Dark ordered.

“Someone needs to call your guy’s villains prop department because these masks are creepy looking,” Bim grabbed a masks from table.

“What mask?” Wilford asked in confusion, but then he shuttered as if a current had been run through him. “What was that?”

“You tell me, Wil,” Dark stood up, noticing that some of the assistants looked paler, as if their strings were being cut. Dark grabbed his milkshake and tore a hole into the Void. “Bim, go home, the heroes are doing something.”

“I never get to stay,” Bim tore off his mask. “Come on, I can take them, just let me try.”

“We have a month left,” Dark snapped. “Go home or go to the office.”

Bim glared at him but followed Dark’s orders as Wilford stormed towards the door, some of his assistants pivoting to watch him as he walked. Dark made sure Bim left with his sherbet smoothie. Wilford opened the door, Dark stepping out behind him and seeing that they were walking into Wil’s studio.

Or at least a very good replica. With Prince Creativity sitting in one of the chairs, waiting and talking to the Jims which knocked out half of Google’s projected group.

Wil’s brain kept pace as Dark just watched from the door.

“Do I have an interview?” Wilford asked in confusion.

“Yeah,” RJ commented, checking his watch. “Everyone’s on time.”

“Perfect,” Wilford smiled and Dark just created a showrunner’s chair for himself as Wilford’s latent magic kicked in to help whatever the heroes were doing.

Rolling his eyes at Wilford’s stupidity, Dark kept drinking his milkshake. His aura fanning out protectively around him and Wilford. It helped him find Logic and Dr. Iplier standing nearby.

“You can come out,” Dark turned to them, scanning them both to see Logic completely in costume. Creativity looked half taken over by Wilford’s magic with curled almost red hair, and a suit made of what looked like glitter or crushed candy covering it but lacked any of the other glassy-eyed featured the rest of the people who’d been taken over had.

Logic and Dr. Iplier, however, looked completely normal. Which Dark found interesting.

“I see you two are also immune to him,” Dark took a sip of his milkshake. “Interesting.”

“Shouldn’t you be stopping us?” Logic asked, walking a step or two closer.

Dark smiled, “So pragmatic, I respect that. When you get tired of the heroes, I can always put a good word for you.”

“Respectfully,” Logic’s hand went up to adjust his visor, “I am right where I need to be.”

“Shame,” Dark looked back to the interview, Logic slapped part of Dark’s aura away from his visor. “You’re a bit too noble for your own good. You remind me a bit too much of myself when I was your age.”

“Really,” Logic hit something on his visor that sent out almost like a localized EMP shock and Dark withdrew his aura. “That seems unlikely. What do you get out of allowing us to stop Wilford? Taking control of the city seems like something that would benefit you.”

“This isn’t control,” Dark huffed as he kept the Producer away. “It is Wilford’s madness taking root in others. Besides, I can’t get much work done with this much of the city in chaos.”

“That hardly matters,” Wilford answered a question from the interview, pulling his gun out. “Of course I can hit that.”

“Really?” Creativity summoned an apple. “I doubt that.”

BANG!

And with that, Creativity went limp, blood dripping from his chest, and the world around them became less vibrant and candy-filled. As if with the firing of his gun, Wilford’s magic reset.

“Well, this was fun,” Wilford smiled as Dark opened up a portal into the Void, his milkshake disappearing. “Darkling, when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Dark smiled back at him. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Do I?!” Wilford chuckled, stretching his suspenders. “I know this nice place. If you’re free.”

Dark stood up, fixing his suit. “For you, always.”

The greyscale entity leaned closer to Logic and Iplier. “If I come back here and find your friend still in that chair, I will assume he’s dead and cremate him.”

“Noted,” Logic said fearlessly.

Wilford stood next to Dark, offering out his elbow, which Dark took and the two of them stepped through the Void. Slowly the city began turning back to normal, people blinking off the stupor they’d been in, their clothes turning back to normal. The studio started to turn back into an empty soccer field, currently holding just the few Sides, Egos, and a very expensive camera.

“We’re clear,” Logan called out as Roman sat up, stopping his suit from turning back to normal. “Astounding work, Creativity. You’re keeping the suit?”

“Of course, and Moody Frown said I couldn’t do it,” Roman grinned. “I never thought to make the buttons out of peppermint rock candy.”

“I’m more astounded that you could sit still for that long,” Anxiety defended, sprouting his spider legs again. “Well, my favor’s done. No one  _ ever _ mention this again.”

“Thanks for your help,” Iplier smiled.

Anxiety paused before fleeing the scene without saying anything else.


End file.
